


#48

by f_femslash



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_femslash/pseuds/f_femslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Could you write a Mirandy fanfiction including the desk at work and a little risk… ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	#48

Emily had been at level ten high alert ever since Miranda had cancelled her lunch with Balenciaga to sulk over the “travesty” of the book in her office. As Andy watched her hover halfway out of her chair, trying to decide whether or not to disturb their boss, she had to concede that Miranda was acting pretty strangely. She’d been refusing to take calls all day, and it was 10pm on a weeknight and she was still holed up in her office. As a result, the offices of Runway were still operating full force despite the late hour.

“Emily.” Miranda’s usual coolly detached voice sounded slightly strained. Emily and Andy shot out of their chairs at once, rushing into the adjoining office and assembling themselves in front of her desk.

Miranda’s glasses were resting on her desk, and she sat with her eyes closed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache.

“I don’t need you,” she said without opening her eyes, waving her hand dismissively. Emily shot Andy a panicked look and hesitated, looking back to Miranda, who apparently sensed their continued presence.

“That’s all,” she waved her hand again, and Andy raised an eyebrow at Emily as they both turned to go.

“Did I say both of you?” A hint of the usual venom crept back into Miranda’s voice as the two younger women froze and half-turned back to look at her. “Andrea, stay,” she glared at Emily, “That’s all.”

Emily looked as if she was fighting back tears as she backed out of the office and began gathering her things.

“Close the door, Andrea,” Miranda sighed, rubbing her temples and shifting slightly in her seat. Miranda’s office door was really more of an idea of a door than an actual solid object. Andy swung the pane of glass closed and drew the filmy white curtain across it.

“You love being that cruel to her, don’t you?” she asked as she turned and walked toward the desk, coming around the side of it to lean one hip against the edge, “You know she’s going to go cry herself to sleep.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Miranda’s mouth as she trailed a delicate finger up Andy’s forearm. “She brings it upon herself.”

“Uh huh,” Andy felt the warmth of Miranda’s touch even after she had withdrawn her hand. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you today?”

Miranda eyed her, then rose slowly from her seat. “I am going to be back in five minutes, and when I return I want the guarantee that we will not be disturbed.” She gave Andy a long, meaningful look before stalking out of the office, scattering a group of nervous, underfed pages in the hallway beyond.

Andy whipped out her phone and began madly texting Nigel.

I don’t know what’s up with her. Keep everyone away from her office. I think it’s safe to send home all non-essential staff.

A moment later, a reply appeared on her screen.

We have non-essential staff?

Andy rolled her eyes and tapped back; Pages, assistants, etc.

Shouldn’t that include you, Six?

Andy chose to ignore him, running out to throw her phone on her desk before stepping back into Miranda’s office. She stepped to the side of the door and spent a solid minute wrestling her panties out from under her mini skirt. Like the lingering look she’d received only moments before, many of Miranda’s sexual cues were nonverbal, or vague in the extreme. It was not unlike anticipating her needs as her assistant, if Andy were to be honest. She crossed back behind the desk and sat on it after checking to make sure she wasn’t about to ruin some massively important memo about alligator handbags or whatever was all the rage these days. Andy just let Miranda dress her, mostly because she loved watching her face when someone complimented her outfit and she wasn’t able to take credit for the ensemble.

Miranda swept back into the room and shut the door, striding confidently around the desk and tugging Andy against her, their lips pressing together. Andy let her hands come to rest on Miranda’s hips, and gasped when she felt a hand come into sudden contact with her exposed folds.

“Mmm,” Miranda hummed against her lips, her mouth curving into a smile as she raked her manicured nails along the sensitive skin of Andy’s inner thigh. Andy couldn’t help but arch her back.

“Is this what’s been bothering you all day? You just wanted…me?” Andy felt a surge of arousal and power course through her, and Miranda palmed her breast through her shirt, licking her lips.

“You do seem to have that affect,” she responded before withdrawing her fingers from between Andy’s legs. They were wet, and Miranda sucked them into her mouth. Andy’s jaw dropped as she watched. “It seems the feeling is mutual.”

Miranda chuckled at Andy’s expression, then leaned forward to suck at a place on Andy’s neck where her pulse thrummed rhythmically beneath the skin. Andy’s hips rocked involuntarily against the desk.

“Miranda…” she muttered, her grasp on her hips tightening as her need increased. Miranda’s tongue drew lazy circles along Andy’s neck, to her exposed collarbone and chest. She knew she wouldn’t touch her again until she’d begged for it sufficiently, and Andy’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of Miranda’s teeth nipping at her sharply.

“Please, Miranda,” Andy began, her hips still moving against the surface of the desk.

“Please, what, Andrea?”

“Please touch me, I need you inside me,” the fact that the words were prompted didn’t make them any less true. Andy was, quite honestly, in a near constant state of want for this woman. Miranda slid her hand between them again and pushed two fingers inside her at an exquisitely slow pace. She watched Andy’s expression as she frantically bucked her hips in an effort to increase speed and friction.

“God, faster,” she gasped, clutching at Miranda as her need became overwhelming, “Please, please,” the word became a mantra as Miranda slowly increased her pace. In moments, she was slamming into Andy, whose head dropped forward to rest on her shoulder as she attempted to stay quiet, her hips meeting each of Miranda’s thrusts until she grabbed her wrist and came hard around her fingers, her face buried in Miranda’s neck.

Miranda made some small sound of approval and after allowing Andy to rest for a brief moment, she slowly slid her fingers out of her and sat back in her chair, raising an eyebrow at her assistant and looking pointedly at the floor. Andy took in a shaky breath and lowered herself to her knees in front the chair. When Miranda gracefully lifted her hips, Andy slowly pushed the luxurious fabric of her skirt up her thighs, discovering with a rush of heat the lack of a barrier between herself and Miranda. She kissed a slow trail up Miranda’s inner thigh, teasing her lightly with tongue and teeth until she reached down and pushed Andy’s head closer to her center with a sound of impatience. Andy grinned and rolled the desk chair toward her on its castors, earning an indignant squawk from an unsuspecting Miranda.

She dragged her tongue languidly through Miranda’s folds, amazed at how wet she had become after a day of wanting. She tripped over the swollen bud of her clit and grinned when Miranda gasped and moaned.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside the office, and Andy froze as she heard the office door open and the urgent voices of Nigel and Emily.

“I’m so sorry, Miranda, but I left my phone in your office earlier and I tried to call Andrea from downstairs but she is, of course, nowhere to be found and-“ Emily rushed to explain herself at the same time that Nigel was trying to apologize.

“Miranda, I’m sorry, I tried to explain that you weren’t to be disturbed-“

“I am her assistant, Nigel, I think I know when she’s-“

“Enough!” Miranda tried to bark, but the second syllable came out with a gasp as Andy flicked her tongue against her clit again with a wolfish grin on her face. “Have you both been eating the paint off the walls? I asked that I not be disturbed, and now I find not one, but both of you here doing exactly that.” Her speech was punctuated by small quivers in her normally smooth cadence, whenever Andy took an opportunity to lean forward and suck gently at her clit.

Nigel and Emily stood silently, probably wondering which of them was going to get fired, and if Andy’s apparent absence meant that she already had been. Andy continued to circle her tongue around Miranda’s clit from underneath her desk, unable to keep the grin off her face as she imagined what her two coworkers would say if they knew where she was and what she was doing at that precise moment.

“Now unless either of you,” Miranda actually stopped, her hands clutching the edge of the desk as Andy pushed her tongue inside her, “Unless either of you truly believes that your schedule or work should take priority to my own, I suggest you remove yourselves from this office before you both find yourselves employed on the corner selling this magazine rather than working for it.”

Andy could hear the hurried footsteps of Emily and Nigel as they frantically vacated the office, shutting the door behind them. Miranda rolled away from the desk and glared down at Andy.

“And you,” she spat out, her arousal still evident in spite of her outrage, “Get my coat. We’re going home.”

Andy grinned and scrambled out from under the desk, wondering what adventures awaited her at the townhouse.

**Author's Note:**

> Original post: http://faberizona-femslash.tumblr.com/post/45152710503/48-mirandy-request


End file.
